Now and Forever (2 page)

A
fter the rain passed they sat on the balcony watching the dark clouds drift across the stormy waves. Suddenly the sound of an engine interrupted Belle's animated chatter.

“It's him!” Belle cried, almost knocking over a chair in her mad flight to the living-room window. The sound of a car door slamming almost covered Belle's gasp of astonishment. “Oh, mother,” she breathed into the silence. “I know what I want for Christmas!”

Angela and her son exchanged frowns as they made their way into the main room. Lutecia hung back, her heart slamming in her throat.

Belle made it to the door before any of them and rushed out onto the porch with Angela a few quiet steps behind her. Frank turned to Lutecia as a chorus of welcomes filtered through the open door.

“What's got into her?” he queried, his hand obviously indicating Belle. “You did say he was a farmer?”

Before she could answer, the door opened wide and Russell strode into the room, and Lutecia's breath expelled in a strange rush.

The sight of him was like a body blow, like a merciless hand choking her. He stood quietly just inside the doorway, his mahogany eyes raking over her with a thoroughness that made her tremble. He towered over Belle and Angela, and no one could have mistaken him for an ordinary farmer. He'd discarded the familiar jeans for a tailored pale gray suit that hugged the hard masculine lines of his broad chest and shoulders and slender hips. His darkness was emphasized by the cream silk shirt he wore. His
deeply tanned face was hard and rugged, arrogantly handsome. Beneath his jutting brow, his narrowed eyes burned like the reflection of flame on polished wood—just as secretive, and every bit as unyielding.

He pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket and bent his head to light it with strong, brown fingers, his narrowed gaze never leaving Lutecia's face. His chiseled lips tugged up at one corner in a calculating wisp of a smile.

“You might say hello,” he prompted in a deep, slow drawl.

She swallowed hard. “Hello, Russell,” she managed, grasping Frank's hand and holding on tight with cold, nerveless fingers. “This is Frank Tyler. Frank, Russell Currie,” she added, making the introductions in a tight voice.

Frank moved forward and extended his hand. “I'm…glad to meet you, Mr. Currie,” he said hesitantly, as if he wasn't quite sure. “Lutecia's told me a lot about you,” he added, his puzzled glance telling her he wasn't prepared to believe a word of what she'd told him now.

Russell gripped the outstretched hand
firmly, raising an eyebrow at the dark-haired girl behind Frank. “Has she?” he replied casually.

“Your sister's a darling,” Belle purred up at Russell. “We've so enjoyed having her here with us.”

Both Russell's eyebrows went up this time, and the amusement was plain in his eyes.

She jerked her gaze away. What good would it do to tell him that she'd given up trying to correct the impression the Tylers had of their relationship? He wouldn't have believed it.

“How about some coffee?” Belle cooed. “Or some tea? Anything you'd like,” she added with a slow, seductive lift of her eyes.

Russell's smile deepened. “I'll settle for coffee.”

“It'll only take a minute!” Belle backed away and almost ran for the kitchen. Lutecia had never seen her move so fast.

“Won't you sit down, Mr. Currie?” Angela asked, patting the sofa beside her. Her icy eyes actually smiled for him. “I'm so glad to have met you at last. Lutecia told us that you farmed, but I never expected…”
She bit her lip, plainly losing her cool poise for an instant. “I mean…”

Russell crossed his long legs, and his eyes caught Lutecia's. “I know exactly what you mean, Mrs. Tyler,” he said with a mocking smile.

She glared at him, and for an instant the tension in the room was almost tangible. Until Belle entered the suddenly silent room with a tray of hot coffee and started firing questions right and left at Russell.

Frank perched himself on the arm of Lutecia's chair, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Stuffy, middle-aged bachelor?” he teased. “Good Lord, he's a walking miracle of sophistication! Or was your description colored by sibling rivalry?”

She blushed. “It's the way I remember him,” she mumbled miserably.

“You're afraid of him.”

Her wide, panicky eyes met his. “Afraid?” she echoed. “I'm terrified!”

A shadow crossed Frank's pale face. “Stay here,” he told her. “He can't make you go back.”

She held on to his hand. “Can't he?” she
laughed humorlessly. “Can you stop him, Frank?”

He started to speak, but a glance in Russell's direction froze the words on his lips. The older man's hard eyes were studying them with an angry scrutiny even while he listened to Angela's casual conversation.

No one, Lutecia thought irritably, ever stood up to Russell for long. All her life, it seemed, she'd been looking for a man strong enough to do that.

“I hate to cut this visit short,” Russell said suddenly, his crisp tones interrupting her musings, “but I'm short on time.” He glanced at his watch, a flash of gold imbedded in a nest of thick, dark hair on his muscular wrist. “I've got a buyer flying in from Dallas to discuss a cattle deal with me. Get your things together, Tish.”

She rose automatically at the authority in his voice, resenting it but not resisting. The nickname was a carryover from her childhood, from days when she'd tagged after the tall man like a second shadow and loved him even while she fought him.

“I'll be right back,” she said, pausing to brush a casual kiss against Frank's cheek as
she passed him. She ignored Russell's raised eyebrow as she rushed out of the room. It was the first time she'd made any affectionate gesture toward Frank in front of the family, and she wondered just for a second why she felt the necessity.

When she came back into the living room lugging her suitcases and purse, Belle Tyler was sitting on the couch between her mother and Russell. She was so close to him that a fly couldn't have breathed in the space between them. Lutecia's jaw clenched involuntarily.

“Oh, there you are, darling,” Belle called. “I was just telling Russell how much Frank and I are looking forward to our visit.”

“I hope we won't be in the way,” Frank muttered.

“Not at all,” Russell replied cooly. “The invitation included you, Mrs. Tyler,” he reminded Angela.

“You're very kind,” she replied with a smile. “But I have some business to attend to. Since my husband's death, most of the responsibility for the company falls on me, you know.”

Russell acknowledged that bland statement with a half smile, and Tish could have laughed. Woman's Lib might have swept the country, but the words weren't included in Russell's autocratic vocabulary.

He bent to take the suitcases out of Tish's hands effortlessly, his eyes meeting hers at point-blank range with the action. “Nervous, honey?” he asked in a voice that reached only her ears, and she knew the smile would be there before she saw it.

“Because of you?” she said with a forced laugh. “How ridiculous.”

“You've been clinging to Tyler like a lifeline since the minute I walked in the door,” he remarked, straightening as he turned toward the door.

She said her goodbyes, said all the polite, necessary things, while Russell put her bags in the trunk of his rented car. Her hand trembled under the pressure of Frank's as he led her to the passenger side.

“Cheer up,” he murmured in her ear. “He is your brother, after all, and blood's thicker than water. I'll be there in two weeks. Think about that.”

“I'll live on that,” she corrected, and lifted her face for his brief, gentle kiss.

“Let's go,” Russell said impatiently, sliding in behind the wheel, oblivious to Belle's possessive gaze.

She got in beside him and they drove away, the chorus of goodbyes ringing in her ears.

 

Later, gliding along the highway, she felt Russell's eyes on her. “What, exactly, were they expecting, Tish?” he asked quietly. “A gangly hayseed wearing torn jeans and carrying a pitchfork?”

She studied her hands in her lap. “You didn't disappoint Belle, at least.” She threw him a glance. “She did everything but wear a sign saying ‘take me, I'm yours.'”

“The line forms to the right, baby,” he said absently, lighting a cigarette without taking his eyes from the road. “I'm up to my ears in women as it is.”

“You always were,” she said impulsively, flushing as the words died on the air. “Drawn like flies by the scent of money,” she added quickly.

“In other words, my only attraction is the
size of my wallet?” he asked with a hint of a smile.

“How would I know?” she asked defensively.

“How, indeed?” Soft laughter filled the car. “I'm your ‘brother,' I believe?”

She flushed to the roots of her hair. “They just assumed that you were. I tried to tell them, but…”

“Like hell you did.”

She folded her arms tightly across her chest and stared out the window. “What do you think of Frank?” she asked casually.

“Nice boy. What does he do for a living?”

“He isn't a boy!” she snapped.

She felt his fiery glance. “Compared to me, he is. I've got at least nine years on him.”

“He's twenty-six.”

“Eight years, then. I asked you a question.”

“He's a vice-president in his father's company. They're in electronics.”

“Well,” he said, “he's pretty.”

“So are you,” she flashed, lifting her
stubborn chin. “Pretty irritating and pretty apt to stay that way!”

She felt the fiery glance he shot in her direction, and almost shuddered at the intensity of it.

“I'll tell you once,” he said in a deceptively gentle tone, “to take that chip off your shoulder. There's a line you don't cross with me, honey.”

Her lip trembled with mingled antagonism and fear. “I'm almost twenty-one, Russell,” she said finally. “I don't like being treated like a child. You've walked all over me since I was in grammar school, and I don't have to take it anymore.”

“Don't kid yourself,” he said deeply, and a wisp of smoke drifted past her as he exhaled. “You'll take anything I dish out and like it. Won't you?” he demanded harshly.

She cringed mentally at the threat in the soft tones that were a thousand times worse than shouting. “You started it,” she mumbled tearfully. “You were mad when you got to the beach house, and you're still mad. Must you be so cruel, Russell?”

“Baby, you don't know how cruel I can be,” he said matter-of-factly. “And if you
don't take the edge off that sharp little tongue, I'll show you.”

She drew in a deep breath, blinking back the tears. “I'm sorry,” she said finally, almost choking on her pride with the words.

They were in the city now, and he stopped for a traffic light, throwing a lazy arm over the back of the seat. His eyes scanned her drawn face, and she reluctantly returned his gaze.

His fingers caught a loose strand of her hair and tugged at it. “That was a hell of a welcome,” he said roughly, “for a man you haven't seen in a year.”

“Has it been that long?” she asked innocently.

“You know damned well it has. And you haven't stopped running yet, have you?” His eyes bit into hers with a vengeance.

“I don't want to talk about it,” she said shakily, her hand going to his, trying to push it away from her hair.

He caught her fingers in his big, warm hand, and the touch was electric, jolting. “I didn't mean to be quite so brutal,” he said quietly, his eyes searching hers. “And I sure
as hell didn't expect to find you gone, bag and baggage, before I had time to explain.”

Her fingers went cold in his, and she could feel something inside her melting, aching. She tugged at the firm clasp and he released her as he moved the car back into traffic.

“My God,” he said roughly, “the way you'd been flirting with every man on the place, including me,” he added with a challenging glance, “what did you expect me to think? There you were in the bath house, in Jimmy Martin's arms, and you were wearing nothing but a towel! He was damned lucky I didn't kill him.”

She closed her eyes against the memory. She could still see Russell's eyes the way they'd looked that day, blazing, merciless, as he literally threw Jimmy out the door.

Like the boy he was, Jim ran for his life, leaving Lutecia there to bear the brunt of Russell's black temper, the searing accusations, and what had followed….

“You might have told me about the rattlesnake to begin with,” Russell said, turning the car into the road that led to the nearby airport.

“You wouldn't have listened,” she said in a husky whisper. “It was curled up in my clothes, and I didn't even see it until I'd taken off my swimsuit. I grabbed the towel, and screamed….”